The Life You Chose
by Letters to Ghosts
Summary: Little moments of Rayna & Deacon's lives together in an AU where Deacon's addiction never broke them apart.
1. Next Year, Ray

_A/N: Little moments of Rayna & Deacon's lives together in an AU where Deacon's addiction never broke them apart. The story travels back and forth to various moments in time._

* * *

 **September 10, 1995**

Rayna opens her eyes and squints at the morning light. She needs a few seconds to take in her surroundings. _Hotel room_. _Naked_. "Babe?" she calls. No answer. Naked and alone, apparently. She groans as she drags herself out of bed and goes in search of a t-shirt in her suitcase. It's when she puts it on that she notices the words in black ink scribbled upside down on her stomach.

 _Out running an errand. Be right back.  
P.S.: I love you, baby.  
P.S. 2: I wrote all that and you still haven't woken up. We should have slowed down on tequila._

She chuckles. Her recollection of last night's events is foggy at best. She's sure though that it involves taking a cab with Deacon to a nearby park, right after their show, and having candlelit dinner sitting on a wooden picnic table. Going to a bar and, after some tequila-induced convincing, dragging him to dance. And then, later, Deacon kissing her in the hotel's elevator, her legs around his waist and her back pressed against the wall, whispering, "Happy anniversary, I love you, babe," in his ear as he was carrying her from the elevator to their room.

The door opens and Deacon gets in, a smile forming on his face when he sees her.

"Hey, baby."

He puts a little carton bag on the table.

"I hope you bought notepads, looks like we're short of those," she remarks, amused.

"It's our second anniversary, Ray. _Paper_ was last year."

"What's in the bag?"

"You'll see next year." He gives her a conspiratorial grin.

"Next year?"

"We said no gifts this year, I'm a man of my word."

"Fine," she laughs. "The bus is leaving in one hour. I'm going to take a shower."

She pauses at the bathroom's door and turns to look at him.

"Feel free to come help me remove the ink."

* * *

Later that day, she's sitting on the couch in their tour bus with boxes full of CDs waiting to be signed on the table in front of her. Deacon is sitting not far, strumming on his guitar.

Their life has been so hectic since her latest tour started. Whenever she's not on stage, her days are filled with showcases, radio interviews and all kinds of publicity events Bucky is planning for her. She's grateful for nights like the last one when she can run away with Deacon.

She opens the first box, removes the cap of the black pen and starts putting her autograph on the albums.

A moment later, "Babe?"

"Yes?"

"What's in the bag?"

He grins. "Next year, Ray."


	2. Roots & Wings

_A/N: I stole some Miranda Lambert lyrics but I twisted them a bit so they would fit._

* * *

 **September 10, 1993**

Deacon wakes up and reaches his hand out only to find Rayna's side of the bed empty. He looks at the clock. 7:30 am. It must not have been more than two hours since they fell asleep. When they had left the wedding reception venue around 3 am, members of their band were starting some impromptu jam, Tandy and Bucky were both weirdly nowhere to be found and Vince had stopped them, one more time, to say how happy he was for them. Deacon smiles at the memory. He picks up his boxers from the floor, puts them on as he goes looking for his wife. He's walking down the stairs when he hears singing coming from the living room. He finds her sitting on the floor, her legs stretched out under the coffee table and her back propped against the couch.

"Did I wake you up?" she whispers.

"No, sweetheart." He sits besides her, kisses her shoulder.

"You're writing?"

"You know that new melody you played to me? I woke up with a line of lyrics for it in my head and once I wrote it down, everything else just started pouring out."

Deacon reaches for her notebook and starts reading.

"Will you sing it to me?"

 _She said run on love  
And run on life  
And plant some seeds  
And take your time  
Don't take anything at all for granted_

 _She said spread your wings  
But put down roots  
Be yourself  
And never change it  
Be everything you ever wanna be_

He doesn't need to ask who _she_ is.

"I wish she could have been there yesterday. Yesterday more than any other day."

"I know."

There's a moment of silence and Rayna runs her finger along Deacon's jaw.

He is officially her family now but it feels like he's already been for more than five years. She doesn't like that word for them, _officially_. Neither of them _officially_ proposed. They were sitting across from each other in a cafe one afternoon, talking about everything and nothing and he said, "What are we waiting for?" She didn't ask what he was talking about, she only smiled. That night, she told Tandy and he told Vince and they started to make wedding plans.

What they have and whatever they will build together, those are the only roots she needs. She knows he'll never stop her to be everything she wants to be, she also knows he's real and he's grounded and she can count on him to never let her go burn her wings on the false promises of fame.

"I stole your melody, babe," she says after a while.

He grins, takes her hand and rubs his finger over her ring.

"What's mine is yours now."

She chuckles as she leans to kiss him.

* * *

 **May 13, 1994**

"So... the next one is called _Roots & Wings_." She smiles at the loud cheer coming from the 10,000 people standing in front of her.

When she gets to the last verse, she turns to Deacon, locking her eyes with his.

 _I sing every night  
In a different town  
And I've got a man who wears my ring  
And I got roots  
And I got wings_


	3. Virginia & Watty

**November 3, 2013**

"Ray, wait, maybe we should talk about it before you go there. You're angry and not thinking straight."

"He knew her, Deacon. He lied to me all these years, I need to talk to him _now_." She's on the verge of tears again.

"I'll drive you there," he says, grabbing the keys from her hand.

He has barely stopped the car, but she is already opening the passenger door and walking towards Watty's house. He chases after her. She rings the doorbell and they both wait in silence until Watty appears.

"I need to talk to you," she urges before he can say anything. He gestures for them to come in and leads them to the living room.

"What's wrong?" Watty asks, sitting in a chair while they sit on the couch across.

"It's been two months since Dad died, and Tandy and I have started cleaning his house."

Deacon can see Watty tense at Rayna's words.

"I found this." She reaches for her jacket's pocket and takes a folded piece of paper out of it. "It's called _I'll Remember How You Loved Me_. It says _Written by Virginia Jaymes & Watty White_."

Watty leans forwards and rests his forearms on his thighs. Rayna is looking at him.

"You knew my mom?"

"Rayna—"

"Did you know her?"

"I did."

"When? Before she married Dad?"

"No."

When she speaks again, it comes out as not much more than a whisper. "You were... having an affair?"

"I _loved_ her, Rayna."

Deacon is watching his wife and can only start to guess what's going through her mind. Her fingers are playing with the piece of paper in her hands, but her stare never leaves Watty's.

"Is this why you helped me?"

" _No_ , Rayna. You were astonishingly talented. I thought you had this unique gift, and life proved me right."

"I want to know." She stops before she adds, "Everything."

And so Watty tells her how he and her mom met. It was two years before Rayna was born. She was singing in a little bar one evening while Lamar was away on business and Tandy was being watched by her sister. He was immediately drawn to her. When her set ended, he went to talk to her and they had a drink. He wasn't the kind of man to go after married women. She wasn't the kind of woman to cheat. But they both knew something had happened between them that evening. He gave her his number and told her that if she ever wanted to write with him...

"How much time did it last?"

"Until her death."

"Watty..." She's fighting tears. "Why didn't she leave my dad?"

"With the kind of influence your dad had, he might have kept her away from you and Tandy. So that was never ever going to be an option for her. After she learned she was pregnant with you, she told me we had to stop seeing each other. And we did. It only lasted until a few months after you were born."

She wants to ask him, but she can't bring herself to say the words.

"Was she sure... Was there a chance you..."

"She told me it was Lamar. I was never sure about that, but it didn't matter anyway." He pauses. "As I told you, it was never going to be an option."

"My dad knew about you?"

"Virginia and I never actually talked about it. I mean, we never said the words aloud. But he had to know, I don't see how he wouldn't have known. There was some unspoken agreement between your mom and I that we didn't talk about Lamar. I guess your mom and Lamar had the same agreement about me. He never left her."

* * *

Deacon glances at Rayna in the passenger seat. Her head is leaned back and she's staring outside. She hasn't said a word since they left Watty's house ten minutes ago.

"Talk to me, baby."

"It makes sense now. Everything with my dad, it finally makes sense. Why he acted with me the way he did. Why he kicked me out when Watty started to help me. Why he never supported my career. It feels like we've wasted all this time, and now that I know why, he's gone. We'll never have a chance to talk about it."

"He's the only one to blame for that. He's been resenting you for things that you were not responsible for."

"I know. I just wish he would have told me. That Watty would have told me. Hell, Deacon... Watty lied to me every day of these last 26 years." She pauses. "And my mom..."

This is the moment her voice breaks, and when Deacon looks at her, she's trying to wipe the tears away. He reaches for her hand and laces his fingers with hers.

"This changes nothing to the relationship you had with your mom, baby. You hear me? Nothing."

"I have so many more questions, but for now, I'm too furious." This time, it's her turn to look at him. "I need to know. There's a chance he's the girls' grandfather, Deacon. _We_ need to know."


	4. The Video

**June 2, 1994**

To a friend who'd once asked Rayna what it was like to shoot a music video, she'd answered, "Waiting, then waiting, then more waiting." Deacon knows she was joking, but judging from his one previous experience, it wasn't that far from the truth.

He thinks about this when he stops his truck on the side of the road and steps out. They are only back in Nashville for a few days, and Rayna is going to spend those days shooting the video for _Roots & Wings_. Today's location is on a beautiful acreage outside of town. Before she left early this morning, he'd promised her he would drop by to say hello sometime in the afternoon. A promise that Rayna had negotiated by sliding her arms around his waist, biting his earlobe, whispering in his ear all the things she had in mind for them tonight if, _by luck_ , he would decide to come keep her company on set. This was a negotiation that had crowned them both winners.

There's a security guy who seems to recognize him because he only nods and doesn't move when Deacon walks past him. The crew is setting up the scene they're about to film next and Deacon spots Rayna a little away from the frenzy, leaned back against a fence. There's a little red-haired girl standing in front of her.

"Hey, babe." She smiles at him.

"How's everything going?"

"I'll say surprisingly good so far."

She gives him a quick kiss before she turns towards the girl. "Lucinda, meet Deacon. Deacon, meet 8-year-old Rayna. She's playing a young me in the video," she explains. "Lucinda here is going to be a big country star." Rayna winks at the little girl and gets the biggest smile in return. "I'm teaching her to harmonize on _Anywhere From Here_."

"Want to hear us?" the girl asks.

"Of course. I will say I knew you when."

He watches Rayna as she and Lucinda start to sing, the girl looking up at Rayna with a mix of awe and self-pride.

In the six years they've been together, neither of them really brought up the subject of children. It came up when Scarlett was born, but they didn't talk about it more seriously than a vague, "One day, that would be nice." Their childhoods couldn't have been more different but neither of them had what would be called a conventional one. There was, in fact, a time when Deacon was certain he would never want kids. That was before Rayna.

 _Before Rayna._

This could be said about so many things.

Before Rayna, he never thought he would be playing guitar in front of thousands of people. Before Rayna, he never thought he would be writing hit songs with the woman he loved. Before Rayna, the lousy cards the universe had dealt him for 19 years had kept his expectations of life considerably low.

The song ends and Deacon claps, making fake crowd-cheering noises, "The crowd goes wiiild!", prompting Lucinda to break into giggles.

They hear someone behind them yell, "Everyone, we're back at it."

"I have to go, babe, you're waiting and watching for a little while?"

"I just got here."

As Rayna walks away from him with that little red-haired girl, he thinks how, _one day_ , that would _definitely_ be nice.


	5. The Funeral

**January 23, 1997**

"I won't let you go anywhere near that church," Deacon says slowly, standing in front of his dad, blocking his way. They're at the far end of a small parking lot.

"I'm going to my wife's funeral."

"She wasn't your wife anymore. She hadn't been for years."

Rayna stands a few steps away from them, with Vince besides her. He's got his hand resting on her arm, silently cautioning her not to intervene.

Deacon's dad seems to lose patience, he moves forwards and tries to shove his son aside but Deacon stands firmly and won't let him pass. His dad first takes a step back before, in a completely unexpected move, punches his son. Deacon stumbles backwards but doesn't fall down. His head is turned towards Rayna, she can see the blood on his bottom lip. For the brief moment she meets his gaze, what she sees there frightens her. In a second, Deacon punches his dad back, making him fall back on the asphalt.

Before things can get worse, Vince grabs Deacon and drags him away. "Deacon! Let me handle this." He turns to Rayna, "Get him away from here." While they walk in direction of the church, Rayna can hear Vince behind them starting to speak, "Sir, we're obviously not going to let you attend the funeral, it would be wise to get back in your car and leave."

When they get to a quieter place behind the church, alone, Rayna reaches for a tissue in her purse and hands it to him, "For your lip." She knows him well enough not to say anything more at the moment. A few minutes later, Vince joins them.

"He's gone?"

"Yes, he's gone."

"Thanks."

They stay like that for a while.

"There's blood on your shirt, babe," Rayna quietly notes, breaking the silence.

Deacon looks down and sees the red stains on the white fabric of his collar. "Fuck."

"You know what, why don't we switch shirts," Vince suggests.

"Are you sure you–" Rayna tries to object but the two of them have already started to remove their coats.

"How much do our chances to go to hell increase for stripping down behind a church?" Vince jokes at Deacon, hoping to maybe get half a smile from him, maybe break the tension a little, if that's even possible. But Deacon's face doesn't move, he seems completely lost in his thoughts.

When they're done, Rayna stands in front of him, reaches for his hands and laces their fingers. She rests her forehead against his. He relaxes a bit under her touch and she quietly says, "It's only about your mom now." He takes a deep breath. She kisses him, grabs his arm and the three of them head towards the entrance of the church.

* * *

A small crowd of people dressed in various shades of black are gathered in Beverly's living room and when Rayna comes back from the kitchen, she throws a look around in search of Deacon. She feels someone tugging on the side of her dress and drops her eyes to a little 6 year-old blond head with blue eyes staring at her. She lifts Scarlett up in her arms.

"Hey, cupcake, you're okay?"

"Yes, I think so," her niece says.

"You want to help me look for Uncle Deacon?"

Scarlett nods.

They find him outside, sitting on the back door's stairs. He's got his hands in the pockets of his coat and there's a half empty glass on the stair besides him. He smiles when he sees them approach.

"Hey, sweet girl," he tells Scarlett, "didn't you tell me about a new kite that you wanted us to try?"

Rayna looks at him. "You want to do that _now_?"

"Why not? I'm not in the mood to talk to people." He turns to Scarlett, "So, do we go get this kite or what?"

Scarlett seems to sense Rayna's hesitation because she asks, "Is it okay?"

"Of course."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Rayna and Deacon are sitting on the stairs, watching Scarlett run around the backyard flying her kite.

"I'm sorry I scared you earlier," Deacon says suddenly, avoiding her gaze.

In the first years they were together, he almost never talked about his family and Rayna never pushed him about it. After a couple of years, he started telling her stories, more and more of them. She took it as a sign he was trusting her enough, was loving her and feeling loved enough to expose himself to her this way. She knows all the stories but she realized this morning that it was one thing to hear about it and it was another to actually witness it happening in front of her.

"It's fine. It's just that... I had never seen that look in your eyes before."

"And I swear you'll never see it again." This time, he looks at her before he repeats, "I swear."

"I'm not worried about that. Not at all," she says grazing the back of her fingers over the hair above his ear and then caressing his earlobe with her thumb. "I'm sorry you had to see him again and I'm sorry he was the awful excuse of a human being he's always been." She pauses. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. There's nothing more to say about him that I haven't already told you. Seeing him again, it only... brought back memories, in a very real way."

"I understand."

She slides closer to him and links her arm around his. He leans towards her to kiss the top of her head. He lingers there for a few seconds.

"Thanks for being here. Today and every other day."


	6. Scarlett

**July 8, 2006**

"You take your time to get settled. If you need anything, you ask, we'll be downstairs," Rayna offers as she gently strokes Scarlett's arm.

"Thank you." Her niece pauses before she adds, "And I mean thank you for everything."

Rayna reaches out and pulls her into a long hug. "Will you stop thanking us. It's normal. We're more than happy to have you here. And there's an actual chance Maddie and Daphne will never let you to leave again." She lets go of the hug. "Alright, I'll leave you to your unpacking now."

As she closes the guestroom's door behind her, she spots one seven-year-old and one four-year-old sitting next to each other on the floor, their backs propped against the hallway wall. They're going to have to talk again about the no spying rule in this house.

"Can we go see her?" Maddie asks.

"Not now, you give her a little space. And if you want to go talk to her later, you knock on her door and _you wait for an answer_ before you go in. Understood?"

"Ooookay."

"You two go play in Maddie's room now, dinner will be ready in thirty."

The girls get up and Maddie takes Daphne's hand. Rayna smiles as she watches them scamper away down the hallway.

The whole family has been back from tour for a little more than two weeks now and Rayna is always amazed at how little time the girls need to adjust from life on the road to life at home. They've accompanied her on all her tours, it has become part of their normal life. It's a crazy organisation, but she couldn't think of doing it any other way.

She takes a deep breath as she turns to head downstairs. She finds Deacon sitting on the living room's couch, his elbows resting on his knees and his right hand holding the phone to his ear.

"I don't care, you don't leave your daughter to go follow some guy across the country. No, she's not an adult, she's 15. For God's sake, Bev, she's your kid. No, don't you dare hang up! Bev? Bev?"

He throws the phone on the couch. Rayna takes it his sister finally called them back. And she takes it Bev hasn't planned to come home anytime soon.

"I swear I'm going to go find her and drag her back to Natchez myself," he huffs.

"Do you know where she is?"

"No," Deacon sighs.

Scarlett called them yesterday. Her mom had left one week before to go follow the new love of her life, some cowboy named Cash who's competing on the rodeo circuit. She had planned to be away for weeks. _At least_. Rayna and Deacon told Scarlett to pack, bought her a flight ticket for today and, two hours ago, Deacon was at the airport waiting for her to arrive.

"She'll be back soon. We know how this kind of crazy decision-making from your sister usually turns out."

"She abandoned her child. We could actually report her to the police."

"Well, you know we won't do that."

"I don't know anymore, Ray" he admits, rubbing a hand over his face. "What do you think?"

Scarlett can stay with them for awhile, it's summer and won't be a problem until school starts again. If his sister hasn't reappeared by then, they'll deal with what to do at the time.

"It'll be alright, babe."

* * *

The next morning, Scarlett is sitting on one of the kitchen's stools with Daphne on her lap and Maddie perched on the stool next to them. She's holding cards in her hands, showing a magic trick to her little cousins.

Deacon and Rayna are on the other side of the kitchen's counter, preparing breakfast when Rayna glances at her phone.

"What the hell."

"Mom, one dollar," Maddie scolds her, prompting a confused look from Scarlett. "They have to put one dollar into the swear box for every bad word," she explains. "Dad says we'll be able to buy a cabin in the woods soon thanks to Mom."

Scarlett chuckles.

"Dad thinks he's _so_ funny." Rayna gives Deacon a quick slap on the ass before she leans for a kiss. When he feels her pulling away, he slides his arm around her waist and holds her there for a few more seconds.

"What's this text that made you lose money?" he asks then.

"It was from Tandy but it was definitely not meant for me."

Her phone buzzes again. _Sorry, wrong person... obviously._

 _Now I need to know who that was meant for_ , she types back.

 _Hmm... later_ , is all she gets in return.

"Tandy and her secret lovelife."

Deacon snorts. "Some things never change."

"Alright, girls," Rayna says, as she turns towards her niece and daughters, "what's the plan for today? What about we give Scarlett a little welcome to Nashville tour?"

She gets a collective "Yesss!" from Maddie and Daphne.

"Scarlett?"

"Sounds great."

"It's settled, then."


	7. The Date

**August 2, 2006**

"Is it too soon to be thinking about when we'll ask Scarlett to watch the girls again?" Deacon asks as Rayna is still straddling him, slumped against his chest, both of them naked in the back of the dim-lit SUV.

"I'm thinking sometime in a very near future," she says with a smile he knows well.

"Sold."

One hour ago, he was pressing her against the wall behind the cafe they had just left, his hand under her dress caressing her thigh and playing with the hem of her panties. Between kisses, smiling and her breath short, she whispered, "It's nice being just the two of us for a change." He grinned. "We should take a room." Somewhere on the way there, she slid her hand on the back of his neck and started rubbing her thumb lightly under his ear. After one look at her, he pulled the car off onto a dark deserted side road and they never made it to the inn. They laughed while trying to remember the last time they had undressed each other in the back of a car.

Rayna kisses him before she slides off him and moves to sit besides him.

"Babe, do you remember our first date?" she asks as they each try to find their clothes and get dressed.

Of course he remembers and she knows that. "Why are you asking, baby?" he inquires, curious about the real question behind this sudden wave of nostalgia.

"I was just thinking how we were... so young. I wasn't that much older than Scarlett." She pauses before she continues, "It's been almost one month and if your sister doesn't reappear soon, we're going to have to parent a teenager for a while. Are we prepared for that?"

"It's _Scarlett_. She's the opposite of the rebellious teenager cliche."

"I know, but... I want to be sure not to screw this up."

He knows where her fears come from, it's an age at which she was deprived of a parenting example to base hers upon.

"It will be fine, Ray." She doesn't look the least convinced. "It will be _fine_ ," he reiterates. "Do you trust me?"

"Sometimes."

"Ouch." She smiles though and he knows she trusts _them_. "Alright, I'm officially missing one sock," he says, trying to keep looking around.

"Good news is that it's somewhere in the car."

"I don't know, if it's like the washing machine, we may never find it again."

She chuckles.

"Hey, baby," he says looking at her with sudden seriousness, "it sure is _really_ nice being the two of us."

She grabs the front of his shirt, pulling him for a long kiss.

"Time to go home."


	8. Rehab

**August 14, 1998**

The last time Rayna sat in a police station waiting to bail Deacon out, it was almost ten years ago.

A few months after they had met, they were playing on the stage of a small bar one night. In the middle of their third song, a guy in the front row thought it would be a good idea to try to feel Rayna's leg up. He wasn't the first drunk jerk to act like an ass during one of their gigs, but this time, the jerk ended up with a broken nose and Deacon ended up in jail. When she came to get him, she was furious. "I can defend myself!"

Today, as she's waiting to bail him out after he got arrested for a bar fight, she is not furious. Today, she's only worried sick. Because this is only one on the now ever growing list of things that make her sure Deacon is on a mission to slowly destroy himself and she has no idea how to help him.

* * *

 **August 17, 1998**

"I'll stop, baby. I know I can."

"You can't do it by yourself or you would have already."

"I'm trying, Ray. But last year... it's been..."

"I know, babe. I know _why_. What I want to know now is how to help you."

The _why_ in question happened on a night of March 1997. The two months since his mom's funeral hadn't been the best for Deacon and he was hanging in bars with Vince more often than usual. Of the many great things that could be said about Vince, being a good influence on that front was unfortunately not one of them. That night, Deacon took a taxi to go home around 3 am but Vince took his car. Two hours later, Deacon and Rayna got a phone call from Vince's girlfriend, she was crying hysterically while trying to tell them they had to rush to the hospital. When they arrived, it was already too late.

"It's been more than a year and it's only getting worse. I feel like I'm watching you trying to slowly kill yourself and I can't do anything about it."

She practiced what she was going to tell him and she's trying hard not to cry, not to break. But she feels the lump in her throat and she knows it's a lost battle.

"I'm begging you, babe. Cole knows a place. He knows what you go through, he's been there."

Deacon is avoiding her gaze and his hands are tucked in the back pockets of his jeans.

"I don't know, Ray. I..."

"Please, let Cole help you."

He's still not looking at her. She doesn't know if she should stand where she is, if she should step forwards and touch him. It's such a weird feeling for her, not knowing what to do around him. Everything has always been so natural, so instinctive from the start between them. Lately she just doesn't seem to know what to do when it comes to him.

"How does it work... if I decide to go, how does it work?"

"You can check in as soon as tonight. You only need to agree to go."

 _Only_ is the most ridiculous word to use here and she regrets it as soon as it comes out of her mouth. It's _only_ one of the most difficult decision Deacon will probably ever have to take.

He sits down in the chair next to him. This time, she follows her instinct and moves to stand in front of him. He's got his eyes closed, she runs her hands through his hair and she leans to kiss the top of his head.

"Babe," she whispers.

"I don't want to be like that. I swear, I don't."

"I know."

"I'll do it."

* * *

 **October 24, 1998**

She has imagined this moment before. How she would tell him. How they would announce it to everyone.

Never would she have thought Deacon would be one week out of rehab and she would be sitting alone on a bathroom floor, staring at a positive pregnancy test, trying to decide if it's the absolute best or the absolute worst time for this to happen.

Never would she have thought you can be this deeply happy and this genuinely terrified at the same time.

She wants to believe it's the best time, that it will help Deacon to stay sober. She can already hear her sister in her head telling her that she's so naive, that _it doesn't work like that_. But no one knows Deacon like she does and she has faith in him.

You're not supposed to take big life's decisions after rehab, they say.

 _I guess life chose for us_ , she thinks.


	9. At the Opry

_A/N: Thanks everyone for the comments. My first fic, I'm still not sure what I'm doing, but it's definitely helping me forget about the show and keep Rayna & Deacon alive in my mind._

* * *

 **November 16, 2013**

" _The reigning Queen of Country, Rayna Jaymes! It's the Grand Ole Opry celebration of legendary producer and songwriter Watty White._ "

As Rayna heads towards the side of the stage, she feels Deacon's hand on her shoulder.

"You killed 'em again."

She grabs his fingers and presses her cheek against the back of his hand, smiling.

"Thanks, babe."

"Now, what's the plan, going straight to your dressing room or chatting with people but skillfully avoiding him?"

"I'm considering option number three."

It's been almost two weeks since Rayna's discussion with Watty at his house. She hasn't seen or talked to him but Deacon randomly met him at Gruhn Guitars three days ago. For a few seconds, he pondered feigning not to see him and he's sure Watty did the same, but neither of them followed through and they ended up having what was one of the most awkward conversations of Deacon's life. Before they parted though, Watty asked if Rayna was still planning to sing at his Opry celebration. He answered that, as far as he knew, she hadn't contemplated canceling.

"If option number three is talking to him, I'm all for it, baby."

They spot Bucky making his way towards them through the crowded backstage.

"Great performance, Ray."

"Thanks, Buck. Hey, could you do something for me, could you find Watty and tell him to meet me in my dressing room when he's got a sec?"

She hasn't told him but he knows her well enough to feel something must have happened.

"Sure," he says as he leaves in search of Watty.

"Do you want me to be there or do you want to talk to him alone?" Deacon asks, his hand settling on her lower back.

"I think I should do this alone."

"Alright." He kisses her temple. "I'll be around. Call me when you need me."

* * *

Rayna has taken her heels off and she's cross-legged on the velvet grey couch of her dressing room. She has alternated between pacing and sitting for the last ten minutes.

She looks at the portraits hanging on the wall. How many artists have been in this room, she thinks. And with them, how many life stories. Love, heartbreak. _Secrets_. How many songs inspired by all this.

She glances at the door one more time. She's about to rethink her decision when there's knocking. The door half opens and she hears Watty's voice.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes."

He closes the door behind him. He's not sure what to do but she gets up to hug him.

"Congratulations, Watty. It's a great night for you," she says, genuinely.

"Thanks, my little songbird. I was hoping you would be there." He pauses before he adds, "I was hoping we could _talk_."

There's a brief silence before Rayna sits back and he goes to sit in the chair across the room. They both start at the same time.

"Rayna–"

"Watty–"

"You first," he says.

"Have you ever thought about telling me? If I had never found about that song, would you have told me one day?"

He takes a few seconds before answering.

"No, I wouldn't have. Rayna, your mother made a choice, I already explained why she had to. It was the only reasonable choice and I respected it. She was creative and intuitive and idealistic but she could also be very pragmatic. In that regard, and many others, you're so much like her."

"I get why while my mother was alive and I get I was too young then for her to even consider telling me. But later, all these years you've been in my life, why not?"

"I have no idea if Virginia would have wanted me to tell you. It was never my right to."

It crosses Rayna's mind that he's the keeper of memories about her mother that she didn't even suspect existed until two weeks ago. She hopes someday he'll share some of those memories with her. But there's time for that. There's one thing that needs to be taken care of first.

"I want to know, Watty."

She doesn't need to say the words. He doesn't answer but he holds her gaze.

Rayna continues, "I heard what you said. And I understand your reasons. But I want to know." She waits a moment before she adds, in a whisper, "Do you?"

"I think I do, now."

* * *

 **December 9, 2013**

Rayna is sitting on one of the kitchen's stools staring at a large white envelope that a delivery guy just brought over. It's early morning but she feels the urgent need to pour herself something strong. The only alcohol they keep in the house is wine though and this won't really help her here. She is alone, Deacon has gone drop the girls to school. Maybe she should wait for him to come back but she knows she won't last until then. She takes a long breath and tears the flap of the envelope open.

She doesn't read the letter, her eyes go straight to the number printed in bold in the middle of the second page.

 _Ninety-nine point nine percent._


	10. The Revel Kings

**October 2, 2012**

"After all these years, you can still jump that wall."

"After all these years, you're still the most beautiful sight, sitting here waiting for me."

Deacon settles besides Rayna on the wooden picnic table, his leg resting against hers.

It was about 14 years ago, one week after he had gotten out after of rehab, when he came home to find a note from Rayna on their kitchen table. The short message, scribbled down on a page torn from a lyrics notebook, led him to the same place they are today. Of all the scenarios his mind had made up on the way there, none was remotely close to what happened the moment he sat next to her. "I'm _pregnant_." It was supposed to be followed by a long speech about how she knew it wasn't the ideal timing, how she didn't want him to feel any pressure, how she only wanted him to focus on himself, how... But he cut her off with a long kiss before she even got to the end of her first sentence. When he pulled away, her eyes were closed, his forehead pressed against hers. "I'll be there," he repeated a few times. "I'll never have another drink again," and he had never meant anything more in his life.

Since that day, they've met here countless times, sometimes for important but often for mundane conversations. It's become their place. In all these years, the table has been replaced a few times but nothing else has changed.

"How did it go?" Rayna asks.

Deacon got a call from the Revel Kings manager early this morning. The latter was insistent the band wanted a meeting with him today but didn't give more clues as about why.

"The U.S. leg of their tour starts in two weeks but Dubbie broke his wrist. He's out for a few months. They offered me to replace him as lead guitar for the U.S. dates."

"Shoot. Babe, that's great."

"That's what I've been told a few times this afternoon."

She smiles. "What do _you_ think?"

"It's... very tempting. But it would be months away from you and from the girls and it's all last minute."

"When do you need to give them an answer?"

"As soon as possible. Tomorrow at the latest."

"I think the only question is if you want to do it or not. Everything else, we'll work a solution out. We always do, babe."

* * *

 **November 30, 2012**

Deacon enters the hotel's elevator, pushes the button and slumps against the wall. If there was any doubt left in his mind, these last two months erased it: clean or not, Cy is still the same pain in the ass. Whatever Deacon does on stage, it seems he's either not putting enough of a show, either putting too much of a show and bruising Cy's ego. He's starting to wonder if that elusive happy medium he's supposed to find actually exists.

He sighs before getting his phone out of his pocket. He checks the time. 1:45 am. Rayna's probably asleep but it's one of those nights when he really needs to hear her voice. He calls her number as he gets out of the elevator.

"Hey, babe."

"Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"I wasn't sleeping. How was the show?"

"Great, according to everyone's opinion but Cy's. I'm getting back to the hotel now."

Deacon reaches his room and puts the key card in the slot. When he opens the door, he finds Rayna sitting on the bed, leaned against the headboard. She drops her phone on the nightstand.

"It's about time."

"Security in this hotel is really lacking." He grins as he quickly closes the distance to the bed.

"That's what I told them when they let me in."

Rayna gets up and slides her arms around Deacon's neck.

"Hey, you."

"Why are you here, you crazy person?" He's still grinning when he lifts her up and presses his mouth against hers. After he puts her back down, he slides one hand underneath her top, brushing the back of his fingers against her skin.

"I just heard something in your voice when you called yesterday. It sounded like... you needed me."

"Thanks, baby," he whispers, suddenly more serious. "Where are the girls?"

"With Scarlett. I'm all yours for the next 24 hours at least."

"Is that right." He smiles as they fall on the bed behind.

* * *

The next morning, they're sitting at a table near a glass wall in a small cafe. It started snowing half an hour ago and everything outside is covered by a small layer of white. They've walked here, Deacon's arm around Rayna's shoulder and hers around his waist, laughing while trying not to skid on the slippery sidewalk.

"Is it really only Cy getting on your nerves or is there something else, babe?" Rayna asks when she catches him looking outside wistfully.

"Carmen is on the tour for a few dates. She's doing an article on the band for Tremolo."

"Carmen?"

"Vince's Carmen."

Deacon and Rayna had lost touch with her after Vince's funeral. It wasn't their fault, it wasn't her fault. Tragedy can bring people closer but tragedy can draw people apart. Sometimes someone's presence only becomes a constant reminder of painful memories.

"How is she doing?"

"Good." He pauses. "It's been 15 years, Ray. Sounds crazy when I think about it."

"Are you alright?"

"I am. _Really_. Don't worry. But being alone, away from you and the girls, I've got too much time to think about what my life would have looked like if you had given up on me back then."

"I would never have given up on you."

"You could have. Certainly no one would have blamed you for that."

"I don't give a fuck what everyone would have thought or not, I would never have given up on you."

She holds his gaze. He reaches for her hand across the table and laces his fingers with hers.

After a moment, his face loosens up.

"That's one dollar, by the way," he says, amused.

"Shut up," she chuckles.

She untangles their fingers and runs her fingertip on the back of his hand.

"Babe, I know you first instinct is rarely to talk, but I'm always here, you know that."

"I _know_. And I promise, everything's fine."


	11. On Tour

**June 13, 1994**

"Claybourne!"

Deacon turns to see a smiling Rayna running towards him and jumping into his arms. He catches her and slides his arms under her as she locks her legs around his waist.

"Hey, darlin'," he chuckles. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm... just... happy," she says in between kisses. "The album is number one, I'm on tour with my husband, life is good."

They finished the soundcheck a few minutes ago and tour crew members are bustling around them in the arena's backstage but Rayna doesn't seem to care the least they're in public.

"Life _is_ good. Want to go somewhere with me?"

"I always want to go _somewhere_ with you."

He grins and kisses the tip of her nose before he lifts her down. He reaches for her hand and leads them away.

* * *

"What are we doing here?" she asks, as they sit down.

He has brought them to the nosebleeds. Rayna props her feet on the seat in front of her and Deacon's hand lands on her thigh, caressing it with his thumb.

"I was looking up here during the show last night and I thought back to the first arena show I've been to. I was ten. My mom had won two tickets on some radio show and she took me with her. Our seats couldn't have been further from the stage but it's one of my best childhood's memories."

Back then, he had kept talking about the concert for weeks, long enough for their neighbour to take notice. For his next birthday, she surprised him with the gift that would ultimately reshape his entire life's path. "My husband was the one playing," she told him with a smile when she handed him the old worn-out guitar case. "It will be better with you than collecting dust in my house." Deacon hid it for months, only playing when he was alone, too afraid his dad might find it and decide to sell it on the argument they needed the money.

"We should never forget to play out to the people here who pay good money to come see us," he adds.

Rayna nods. She seems to think about it before she suggests, "We should come here more often, make it a ritual."

They're both quiet for a while. Rayna looks at the distant stage, her name in big red and white letters above the headline _Run on Love Tour_. This last year has seen her career soar and for two months now, she's headlining her first arena tour. Everything still feels new and surreal and she's determined to enjoy every minute of it.

"I'll never get tired of this," she says breaking the silence.

"Playing sold-out arenas? I don't think you'll ever find someone who disagrees with that," he teases her.

"Life on tour. Being on the road with _you_ , whether in arenas or small venues. You make it feel like home."

He laces his fingers with hers and kisses the back of her hand.

He thinks how his neighbour might have never given him that guitar all these years ago. He think about all the little, seemingly insignificant things he might have done differently along the way that could have led him to never meet Rayna Jaymes and that idea suddenly terrifies him. He tightens his grip on her hand as if otherwise she might dissolve in front of him and it all might reveal itself to have been a long cruel dream. She turns to him with a questioning look but he only shakes his head lightly to appease her concern.

They get back to a comfortable silence.

"This is what you think about during a show then," she says after a moment and there's a playful tone in her voice.

"I've got time to think about a lot of things. And I've got the best view," he jokes, letting his gaze wander unhurriedly on her for emphasis.

"Oh, tell me more about it."

In one move, she sits on his lap, one folded leg on either side of him and her hands on his shoulders. She grins as she leans to kiss him. His hands slide along her thighs, her ass and he pulls her closer. He brushes the hair from her neck, his lips moving to the soft spot under her ear.

"We should make this a ritual too," Rayna remarks in a smile.

He grins into her skin and his hand finds his way under her shirt. She rubs herself against him in response.

"Babe..." she moans.

"Your dressing room?"

"Yes. _Now_."


	12. Happy Birthday, My Love

**July 23, 1994**

"Babe, we have to go out tonight."

It's been three days they're back in Nashville and as it's most often the case when they get back from tour, they haven't set foot outside. After months on the road, all they usually want to do is a lot of nothing.

Ranya lets herself fall on the couch and props her back against the arm. She stretches her leg out to reach where Deacon is sitting at the opposite end of the couch, nudging his thigh lightly with her bare foot.

"Babe?"

"We _have_ to?" he asks, withdrawing his attention from the book he's reading to look at her.

"We've been away for months and we're leaving again in two weeks. If we don't see friends when we're in town, we're going to lose touch with them."

Deacon sighs. "Maybe."

At the moment though, the prospect of losing a few friendships doesn't seem like too big of a sacrifice if it means he can spend two quiet weeks holed up at home with his wife.

He throws his book on the coffee table in front of him and grabs Rayna's foot, starting to massage her sole lightly.

"What do you want to do?"

"Just have a drink. See some people."

"Or..." he says, moving towards her until he's kissing her, "...we can just call them to..." kissing her neck, "...ask how they're doing but..." sliding his hand along her thigh, "...we stay here."

"Nice try but... nope."

He retreats backwards, sighing in defeat.

"I guess we're going out."

* * *

It's when they are walking from the parking to the bar's entrance that Deacon notices it, the little conspiratorial smile on Rayna's face. He stops in his tracks.

"Alright, what's going on?" he asks, suddenly suspicious.

"What? Nothing. Come on."

She grabs his hand and leads him to the door, opening it for him. As soon as he walks past her, he's greeted by a small crowd of familiar faces gathered together in the middle of the room, all loudly shouting "Happy birthday!" while raising their glass to him.

 _Oh no, she didn't._

He turns around. "I hate you," he silently mouths, but a grinning, all-too-happy-with-herself Rayna gently shoves him inside.

"No, you don't."

She planned this evening from the road, rented the place for the night and asked a friend in town to help her organize everything. She had to clarify for half the people she called that, no, it wasn't a joke, she really was throwing _Deacon_ a _birthday_ party but as she expected, all of them told her they would be there. It's never difficult to persuade people when it's about Deacon – she, more than anyone, knows that.

"My birthday is next month, Ray."

"We won't be in town and, anyway, it would have been impossible to drag you here and make it a surprise."

She gestures with her head trying to bring his attention to the space in the back of the room where chairs and tables have been moved and some couches facing a projector screen have been installed. He frowns before he understands what she wants and he turns around to look.

"What's this?"

"I figured the only way you would agree to celebrate your birthday would be a public screening of Old Yeller, so..."

She's quite proud of the look of genuine surprise her little reveal elicits on Deacon's face.

"You convinced people to come here for a public screening of Old Yeller?"

"I convinced people to come here for _you_. But it's been five years you're forcing me to watch this movie with you, I thought we might as well do it with friends and alcohol involved this year."

* * *

Rayna is sitting on a bar stool, leaned back against the counter, when she hears Watty's voice.

"He's having a _terrible_ time," he deadpans, pointing his head at Deacon who is in the middle of a conversation on the other side of the room and laughing at some joke.

"Watty." She smiles and gets up to hug him. "Thanks for coming."

"I'm here for the movie."

"I figured." She laughs as they both sit down.

"How's everything going? The tour? I haven't heard much from you these last weeks."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's been... crazy. But everything's great, more than great."

"How are things with Deacon?"

"Great." She pauses. It's quite an unusual question coming from Watty, in fact she doesn't think she remembers him ever asking. "Why?"

"This last year has been a turning point in your career. You're both artists and when fame comes for one and not the other, sometimes..." He doesn't finish his sentence but he doesn't need to.

"It's not like that with Deacon. It's _never_ been like that. And he knows that if there was no Deacon Claybourne, there would be no Rayna Jaymes."

She smiles at her own last words, they would make for a great song. She makes a mental note to write that down in her lyrics notebook later.

She turns towards Watty before she adds, "Thank you, though. For worrying about me."

* * *

Later in the night, Rayna is slumped down next to Deacon on one couch, they're conversing in whispers and not paying the slightest attention to the movie. He leans to murmur in her ear.

"Thank you."

"Happy birthday, my love."


	13. June 19th

**June 19, 1999**

"Are you sure you want to go tonight?" Tandy asks, her finger pointed at Rayna's belly.

They're sitting next to each other on the white marble bench facing their mother's headstone. It's a ritual they try to observe on her birthday every year and so far they've only missed it a couple of times when Rayna was on tour, unable to make it back to Nashville. The symphony gala their dad plans every year in his late wife's honor happens to also fall on the exact date this time.

"I'd like to avoid adding to the list of things for which Dad holds a grudge against me. It's long enough as it is."

"He would probably prefer you don't go than you end up giving birth in the middle of his ballroom. And furthermore," she adds, imitating Lamar's voice, "to a little _Claybourne_."

"The horror." They look at each other and both burst into laughter. "Don't make me laugh, I already want to pee every five minutes."

"Sorry."

Rayna squirms, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit on the hard bench. Comfortable, in general, is not a state she's very familiar with these days.

"She would have the same birthday as Mom," Tandy notes, the thought strangely only just occurring to her.

"The due date is in two weeks, I'd rather Maddie stays in there a little while longer."

"Maddie?"

A broad, beaming smile creeps across her face. "It was on both my and Deacon's lists. What do you think?"

"I like it." Rayna knows which question comes next because it's the same one, every time, for months now. "How's the dad-to-be doing?"

Rayna sometimes feels she has spent much of her adult life having to defend her choices to Tandy. _You're too young to move in with him._ _You can't bet everything on music, you need a backup plan._ _You can't help him._ Granted, every one of these choices could have led to disaster. As it turned out, none of them did. She wonders if her sister will someday start to trust her or if she'll continue to believe everything that happened was only the result of an insane amount of good luck.

The latter, probably.

"He's been sober for ten months, Tandy."

"It's not a guarantee of anything."

 _Sobriety is a lifelong commitment, a process of continual work_ – she's heard that again and again since Deacon got out of rehab. She knows. She abstains from starting an useless argument with her sister. "He's doing well."

"Good." There's a moment of silence before Tandy points her head in the direction of the headstone. "It was there when you arrived?"

Rayna nods.

They find it every year, no card or note, just the same bouquet of white dahlias carefully laid down on the grass in front of the headstone. Tandy suggested – in all seriousness – they hired someone to survey the place and take pics of the mysterious visitor but Rayna found the idea more than creepy.

"Still not curious?"

"No." She looks at Tandy. "I just think that... being her daughters doesn't entitle us to know everything about her. I choose to believe that if it was something we needed to know, we already would."

"Maybe you're right."

"Really? I need to write that down somewhere. Dear diary, today my sister said maybe I was _right_."

"Shut up," Tandy retorts, amused.

More than to see them here every year, Rayna thinks how their mother woud probably love to see them here _together_. She doesn't know what the future holds but she knows that if it's up to her, she wants to give Maddie a sibling with whom she'll get a chance to form that kind of bond.

"Where's your mind at?"

"Nowhere."

She smiles.

* * *

"This is entirely Tandy's fault."

"What?" Deacon takes his eyes off the red light to look at Rayna in the passenger seat.

She was at home getting ready, grumbling at the sight of the overpriced maternity evening gown bought for the occasion and very likely never to be worn again, when she felt the first contractions. They soon got frequent and intense enough that instead of being all dressed up en route to the gala, she and Deacon are now all dressed up en route to the hospital.

"Nothing." She winces as she reaches for Deacon's hand and squeezes a little too hard.

"We're almost there."

According to Deacon, they've been _almost there_ for the last fifteen minutes.

"You're very handsome, babe," she says, trying to divert her mind from the pain.

He looks down at his tuxedo. "I'm not sure this is how I want our daughter to see me for the first time, she might get the wrong impression," he jokes.

They are silent for a while, both pairs of eyes on the light which doesn't seem to want to turn green.

"Hey, baby."

"What?"

"Our daughter may have the same birthday as your mom."

Rayna smiles. "I know."

* * *

 **June 19, 2014**

Rayna spots Watty walking in her direction and briefly raises her hand to wave at him. He squats to place the flowers on the grass in front of the headstone before he goes to sit next to her on the marble bench.

"They're beautiful."


	14. And All He Has Left

_A/N: The beginning refers to the ending of chapter 9. The (stunningly beautiful) lyrics are from Emmylou Harris._

* * *

 **December 9, 2013**

Deacon finds Rayna sitting at the kitchen's counter, her phone in her hand. She hasn't moved since she opened _the_ envelope ten minutes ago. She pondered calling Watty, pressed his name on the screen a few times but hung up before it started to ring every time. If she got the letter, this means he's supposed to have gotten a copy too, this is the laboratory's standard procedure. Maybe he isn't home. Maybe he's been sitting in _his_ kitchen pondering calling her for the last ten minutes.

"Baby?"

Deacon's voice pulls her out of her daze and she slides the paper across the counter.

"Oh." He doesn't need to read past the letterhead. "So..."

"Yeah."

He walks around the counter and sits on a stool next to her, his hand stroking her back slowly.

"What can I do?"

"Nothing, really. I need to go see Tandy."

She sighs, leans her head against his shoulder and he kisses the top of her head.

"Baby, I know it didn't happen the way it should have. He missed your childhood and nothing will change that but... for what it's worth... he's been there since you were 16. He's been part of your life all this time, part of his grandkids' lives."

"Yes but I didn't... I didn't _know_."

* * *

 **December 24, 2013**

Bucky closes the patios's door behind him. He goes down a couple of stairs, walks alongside the pool to a little gazebo with a table and cozy chairs where Rayna is sitting, wrapped up in a warm coat, scarf and gloves.

"I needed some air," she explains before he gets to ask.

"It's... freezing." He puts his hands in his coat's pockets, hopping from one foot to the other. "Almost everyone's there and I think Deacon is looking for you. What's going on?"

"Do you have a cigarette?"

"How do you—"

How does she know he started smoking again two months ago? "It's me, Buck."

He sighs, reaching for the pack in the inside pocket of his coat. He takes one out and hands it to her. He knows she's not going to light it, she just wants to hold it. It's one weird habit she has when she's nervous.

"Sarah is a bad influence," Rayna says pointing at the cigarette. "You're on a slippery slope, Buck." She grins.

"One Christmas dinner with y'all and she'll probably leave me anyway."

"Now who's funny."

Bucky smiles back at her. As much as he enjoys their banter, at the moment, he'd love if they could continue _inside_. Rayna, on the other hand, doesn't seem eager to get up.

"Ray, what's going on?" he asks as he walks around the table and resolve to sit in the opposite chair.

She waits a few seconds, not sure how one is supposed to announce this kind of thing. "I found out Watty is my biological dad." She watches him, waiting for his reaction.

"I... I'm not sure what to say." Yet, oddly enough, he realizes he may not be as surprised as he _should_ be. "Since when do you know?"

"For certain? Two weeks. Only Deacon and Tandy know, I haven't even told the girls yet." Her gaze drops to her lap, her gloved fingers fiddling with the cigarette. "It's been awkward between us and I have a feeling tonight isn't going to be different." She scoffs. "The irony is, I have, in a way, considered him like a dad for a good part of my life and now that he is... it's like we don't know how to communicate anymore."

"So... your plan is to hide all evening?"

"I don't know, it's nice here."

"If you like hypothermia." He stands up, holds his hand out to her. "Come on."

* * *

Rayna slumps into the couch, stretches her legs to rest her feet on the coffee table. She hears ruffling from the kitchen as Deacon is putting leftovers in the fridge. Anything else will have to wait until tomorrow, she lacks the energy to get up from the couch let alone start cleaning now. The girls went upstairs right after saying goodbye to Scarlett and Bev who were the last ones to leave. As Bev walked through the door, she was still in the middle of a fevered monologue about whatever plans she had for her next few days in Nashville and Rayna mouthed a sympathetic _good luck_ to Scarlett. Her niece took a deep breath before she followed her mom to the car.

"Babe?"

"Coming," she hears back from the kitchen.

While she loves to spend Christmas Eve with friends and family, these little moments alone with Deacon when everyone's gone or their Christmas Day mornings with the girls are always her favorites.

Her gaze falls on the living room dresser when she suddenly remembers something. She gets up in the blink of an eye. She opens the first drawer and takes a thin, rectangular package out of it. Watty gave it to her earlier when she accompanied him to his car, asking her to open it when everyone would be gone.

She walks back to the couch. She carefully removes the tape before she takes her time to unfold the white and silver wrapping paper, revealing three worn-out looking photos. Two of them are of her mom with Watty and one of her mom alone. They all seem to be from the same batch, the first two probably taken using the camera's self-timer.

She flips them over, looking for a note or a date. A few lines of lyrics in what she recognizes to be Watty's handwriting are covering the back of the third one.

 _She was his sunshine  
She was his moon and morning star  
His words would ring true  
On the chords of her guitar  
In the end he knew she'd been his finest hour  
And all he has left of her is a song_

When she gets to the last words, she can barely hold back tears. She realizes at this moment that in the same manner he was forced to keep their love a secret all these years, he was forced to keep his grief a secret too.

She reads the last line again. _And all he has left of her is a song._ This doesn't hold true anymore.

She thinks about Deacon's earlier words. _Watty was there_. Maybe she didn't know but he was there. He was part of her life all these years and maybe it's the only thing that matters.


	15. Beyond the Sun

_A/N: I know I've neglected this story, but I love this AU. I'm still very much interested in adding to it... if there are people still interested in reading?_

* * *

 **August 7, 2014**

Rayna pushes the door open, and makes her way into the bar. The place is uncharacteristically quiet, even more so considering how crowded it is. People are gathered around a circle stage in the center of the room, all eyes and ears for the girl standing on it with a black beat-up guitar around her neck. There's a poster pinned above the bar advertising tonight's line-up, and Rayna manages to read the name at the top of the list. She snorts. _Madeline Keen_. The girl on stage, yet, looks a lot like a certain 15-year-old Maddie Claybourne.

"The next one is called _Beyond the Sun_ ," Maddie explains to the crowd. "It's the first time I'll sing it in public and—" She stops when her look falls on Rayna. Her mom stares back, impassive. "And I guess it will be the last one for tonight," Maddie announces, eliciting murmurs of disapproval.

Rayna recognizes the first notes – she's heard Maddie play it at home – but watching her perform the song in front of an enthralled audience gives a whole different spin to it. "I wonder what I'd choose if given the choice, between silence and noise, words or a voice," she hears her daughter sing, and she thinks how this is a dilemma Maddie will never have to sort. She's fortunate enough to have inherited an immense talent for both.

She gets a round of applause as she ends the song with a warm _thanks, y'all_. She's in her element. She unplugs her guitar and slips the strap off, before she jumps downstage. Rayna sees her walk her way.

"Daphne ratted me out?"

"No, she's been a loyal little sister. You see Doug Weaver over there?" Rayna points to a man sitting at the bar. "He works at Tupelo Creek. We go way back. He called me because he thought I'd probably like to know my 15-year-old daughter is singing in bars at night."

"It's barely 9:15."

"How did you get this gig? How did you even get in here? You're underage."

"I've got a friend who knows the booker."

"Which friend?"

"You don't know her." Watching her daughter's look of defiance, Rayna gets an unpleasant flashback to 27 years ago. Her stomach tightens. "I guess this is the part where I'm grounded for life?" Maddie asks.

"No, this is the part where we _talk_. But not here. Go get your things while I'll say hi to Doug."

* * *

They've walked to the car in a relative silence, and Rayna's been trying to think of the best way to start this conversation with her daughter. She sees so much of herself in Maddie, it should make things easier. Weirdly, it makes them more complicated.

She beeps the SUV open, and Maddie drops her guitar case in the trunk. They take their respective seats, as Rayna fidgets with the key. Instead of putting it in the ignition, she turns toward her daughter.

"Madeline Keen?" she asks.

"Boulevard."

"I figured." They both smile. "Have you already done this before?"

"I've been singing at open mics, but it was the first time I actually got a gig. As the opening of the opening... but, still."

"Judging by the crowd's response, I wouldn't have guessed you were opening." This earns Rayna the most genuine smile from Maddie. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Would you have let me do it?"

It's pointless to lie to her. "Not like that, not at a bar," she admits.

"Then you have your answer."

"You know what your dad and I think about you starting your career so young, we've talked about it and—"

"It's not even that, Mom," Maddie cuts her off. "I just want to share my songs. I have no interest in starting to sing professionally yet. The thing is... whatever I'll later do, I'll always be Rayna Jaymes and Deacon Claybourne's daughter. Sometimes I fear I won't be able to tell if people are earnest when they'll say they love my music or if they'll just want to exploit my name."

"Honey." Rayna wasn't expecting that. She's stunned by both Maddie's self-awareness and blunt honesty.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of my name, but... I loved tonight. I loved seeing people react to my music. My music only. You get what I mean?"

She gets it. She gets it more than anyone.

* * *

 **August 8, 2014**

"How are the girls doing?" Watty asks.

Rayna wonders if he'll someday feel comfortable enough to use the word _granddaughters_ , but she's not going to pressure him to in any way. They're sitting opposite each other on the terrace of a small café. Rayna's got her sunglasses on, foremost because it's an habit in order to be less recognized, but today it also conveniently conceals the sleep-deprived circles under her eyes.

"I found one of them singing in a bar."

"I hope we're talking about Maddie."

"Now don't even joke about it. Daphne lied to cover her sister without the slightest second thought. I'm not sure it bodes well for the quality of my future sleep," she complains, prompting a hearty laugh from Watty. There's a beat, before she notes, "You don't seem too surprised about Maddie."

"Apples never fall far from the tree."

She smiles. "Yeah?" He doesn't answer, only smiles back. "You know, this got me thinking," she goes on. "I was barely one year older than Maddie when I started. When I think of all the ways it could have gone wrong, I'm more grateful than ever for the people who were put on my path. You, Deacon, Buck. Only people who had my best interests in mind. In this business, this is far from a given. I got incredibly lucky."

"It wasn't only luck. You've always been a good judge of character."

"Thanks, Dad." There's a loaded pause as they look at each other. It's been eight months, she's not sure why she chose this particular moment. "I'm sorry, it sounded weird when I said it, and—"

"No, no, no. It's just... Yes, it sounded weird." They both smile.

"Should I stick to _Watty_?"

"No, I just need to... get used to it," he confesses.

"Me too."

He clears his throat. "Rayna, I haven't said it yet, but I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me the opportunity to be your dad. Even if only now, even if—" He struggles to finish his sentence.

She knows he's not a fan of grand speeches, so she reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers lightly. "Thanks for letting me."


End file.
